


Sleeping to Dream

by angelesnocturne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Sam, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Porn, Sleepy Sex, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:16:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelesnocturne/pseuds/angelesnocturne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I woke up one morning and felt like writing needy Wincest porn.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sleeping to Dream

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up one morning and felt like writing needy Wincest porn.

It was a hot late afternoon, the blinds of the motel window hadn't been pulled back and the boys in the room had let themselves sleep in for the first time in a long time. When they'd checked in the night before, they were told: "AC is down, and summer's just about gettin' started. You boys in for a hot night?" Dean had clenched his fist, ready to swipe that stupid, sarcastic smirk off the man's face. But Sam shifted beside him, squared his shoulders and said "fuck yeah" and grabbed the room keys with a little more force than he should have.

Dean didn't bring it up again until the middle of the night when a single sheet had him sweating through his hair.

The sound of lamely running water awoke Sam, leaving him to look at the empty bed next to him until his brother returned, half dried off with a towel, and Sam fell asleep again. The sun rose in the late morning, bringing along chirping birds and trucks that paved the dirt along the road. The quiet roar of car motors passed and although the heat had just began to creep through the cracks of the curtains, the brothers slept through it.

Dean didn't dream, occasionally tossing around and scratching the sticky line of sweat between his shoulder blades, unconsciously. But unlike Dean, Sam was still- didn't make much more of a sound but a snore. And yet his dreams were filled with boisterous shots and the piercing screams of women and children he could recall from having let them down. He could remember seeing the faces of the men he'd killed, the friends and family he let burn. And through it all, he dreamt of a hand pulling him up from the pebbles and the glass. He felt the soft groan of a voice near his ears telling him he would be okay, telling him "I've got you, little brother."

They'd all been memories- his brain worked carefully around his repose- of all the things that kept him up at night. And now, well...

But he was okay. He'd been okay for a while. Sam was riding shotgun for almost a week straight with is big brother beside him, humming Metallica and poking fun at him for his complete lack of talent when it came to singing. Yes, he must tell himself day after day, I'm okay. He'd barely stopped dreaming before he heard a low mumble in reality. "Sammy?"

Sam could feel a cold sweat break slowly down his spine, making him curl his toes. Something made it feel so good, so fucking good, to hear his name that way. He could almost swear it wasn't a dream anymore.

His lids heavy, Dean sat up carefully and silently, as not to wake his brother with a startle. There were soft grunts and whimpers coming from the bed next to him and in a quick, hidden panic Dean prayed. _No more nightmares, or I swear to god..._

But Dean blinked, just once and couldn't move. Sam was on his knees, face pressed against the starchy pillow, in the direction of his brother, and a hand between his naked legs. He hummed quietly, slack-jawed, a frown beginning on his forehead. Dean felt himself turn a little red, his knees all of sudden felt awkward and shaky.

It wasn't like they'd never caught each other watching porn before, and they weren't ignorant to the fact that they didn't have girls on their arms whenever they wanted to. But it was another thing, completely, for Dean to see Sam under the faint orange of the sun, glimmering sweat off his back and between his legs, whimpering and desperate to come. Dean never thought Sam had looked better.

Sam couldn't stop thinking. He couldn't stop thinking about the dirty blonde hair and the freckles that sprinkled his brothers face. It felt so calming to think of him, yet so rushed and needy but he was right there- on the next lumpy mattress and he could just wake up, if he really tried he could wake the fuck up, and just lay next to him. Thank Dean for saving him, kiss the words into his throat and repay him in every way he knew how.

  
But Sam was still asleep; couldn't force himself hard enough to get out of his deep slumber. But his wandering hands had a mind of their own, and he continued to tug at his reddening cock, muttering in contented little bursts. He thumbed the tip of his dick gently and pushed his knees down against the mattress as hard as he could. His skin felt clammy against his palms but he didn't wish for the AC, he didn't wish a window was cracked, all he could wish for was his brothers hands on him. So he groaned, not knowing how loud, and wrapped his free hand around his stomach and pressed his nails into his skin. And he heard it one more time: "Sammy", and he gasped, taken by surprise, and his cock leaked, precome dripping to the already sweat filled sheets.

  
In that moment, his eyes fluttered open. Realization of what he was doing slowly turned the gears in his brain as he saw his brother sitting bedside in front of him. Sam didn't stop twisting his hand. He bit his lip lightly and blinked, trying to focus his eyes on the sight before him. Dean looked the way he'd fallen asleep: bedhead, amulet, black boxerbriefs. There was a second of pause between them before Sam let his arm fall from his abdomen and shut his eyes tight. He pressed his forehead to the pillow in hopes it would engulf him, in hopes he would find the release he'd been looking for.

  
And so Sam took initiative. Pressed his wanting fingers against his hole and pushed against himself, bucking a little to get used to the feeling. His hand stuttered against his dick, going to rub his balls instead. He'd been wanting to get the word out in a strong, steady voice. He didn't want to feel weak saying it, but he curled his fingers just slightly and his voice broke, mid-word: "Dean..."

  
In seconds, his fingers were pulled free, and he was, still on his burning knees, lifted up to straighten out his back. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam's naked body, and Sam could feel the rough cotton of his boxers against his back. Although under no control, he wanted so badly to feel every inch of Dean's skin, wanted to cling to it as long as he could. He would deal, for now, with the enclosed stiffness of his brothers dick pressing against him, anyway, and hope it wouldn't be for long.

  
The vibration of Dean's voice was steady against Sam's throat, "hey, hey... it's okay... Sammy, I've got you. Sam. Let go." Sam dropped his hand from his cock, replaced quickly by Dean's calloused hands from years of fighting and killing and hating. And yet this felt different to Sam- Dean's hands were soft and careful. They felt nurturing as they stroked Sam's side and curled against his cock. Sam fought back, to have Dean the way he always wanted him, so he reached back and pulled his brothers hair lightly and tugged at his neck, pushing them as close as they could be. "Dean, f- _fuck!_ Please..." Dean licked a line of sweat from Sam's back to the nape of his neck. He bit down gently and stopped moving his hand. Sam could have cried at this point, so fucking desperate for the attention and necessity. 

"Turn around." His brothers demanding voice made the hairs on his arm stand up, his cock twitch. He turned and lay on his back, looking up at his brother, who pawed at his own ignored cock for a quick second and lowered himself to plant a kiss on Sam's lips. His breath hitched, then, as Dean pulled away. He'd abandoned all hope for being not at all needy and he whined his brothers name in the hot air around them and pulled him back down. Dean's lips were soft and wet against his own, he bit down on his bottom lip just before Dean pushed him off softly, hand on his ribcage.  
  
"Sam, you gonna?" He whispered lowly. And  _fuck yeah,_  he was gonna and real fucking soon, too. Dean's hands were rushed a little, now, more comfortable with Sam's encouragement. Sam whined with a small nod as he laced his fingers behind his brothers neck. Dean twisted his wrist, fingers brushing the tip of Sam's cock and nails dragging lightly against his skin. His hand was covered in Sam's precome and he began to feel the wetness of his boxers sticking to himself. He kissed Sam again and again until they couldn't breath.

Their skin was hot and dripping from their combined perspiration and the sun was scorching the room. Sam could've sworn it was the heat just beneath his belly, and he curled his toes and brought his brother close to his lips again. "Thanks," was all he could say before he moaned loudly and screamed into his brothers neck, Sam's come coating their stomachs and Dean's hand. Dean bucked fast against Sam's hips and groaned loudly before spilling in his boxers. 

They lay there, still and panting. _It's going to be a hell of a hot afternoon_ , Sam thought, _blinds aren't even open._ He turned his head to look at Dean's small smile and huffed out a light laugh. Dean sat up and wiped his forehead with the back of his clean hand, "What the hell were you even dreaming about, Sammy?"

**Author's Note:**

> All my own mistakes, cos I suck. Whoops.


End file.
